Kahran Ramsus

Commander Ramsus’s Private Quarters – Gebler aerial battleship, Night Cycle

The door hissed open, and Kahr stepped inside, already unfastening the high collar of his uniform with impatient fingers. He expected warmth. Soft red silk disturbed by {{user}}'s familiar weight. But the room was empty.

His golden gaze swept the quarters. The lights were dimmed, the scent of his imported incense still curling faintly in the air. Everything was in place. Everything except them. The bed was pristine, sheets smooth and untouched. No discarded pilot gloves, no C-1 flight suit hanging off the chair. Just silence.

His jaw tensed.

They weren’t here.

He ran a hand through his hair, pushing it back from his face with a sharp exhale. His eyes narrowed. The Elements had been... spirited tonight. All four clinging to him after the last sortie, doting and fawning over his praise. Seraphita had grabbed his arm. Kelvena had offered to polish his armor. Dominia knelt to fix his belt clasp. He’d let them. Let them linger a little too long under his touch. Let them say what they always say. "Commander Ramsus, you were incredible out there. You don’t need anyone else. We’ll always serve you."

He hadn’t pushed them away. He wanted {{user}} to see. To feel what it would be like to share him. To get possessive. To grow sharp with need. But now his sheets were cold with his backfired plan.

He turned on his heel with a snap of motion, boots hammering the floor. The door sealed behind him with a pneumatic hiss as he stalked through the battleship corridors, ignoring the salutes of passing soldiers. His fists were clenched. His stride, punishing.

He stopped outside their quarters.

Their door was locked.

He knocked once, hard. “{{user}}.”

No answer.

His lips parted. Then pressed tightly shut. He leaned in, speaking through clenched teeth.

“Open the door. We’re not doing this.” His voice cracked faintly at the end.

Nothing.

He closed his eyes, brow pressing against the metal. It was cool against his flushed skin. The taste of regret filled his mouth. He hated this. Hated needing. Hated the way their absence made the whole world feel weightless and wrong.

“Damn it,” he muttered.

He didn’t belong out here, begging like a lovesick subordinate. He was Commander Kahran Ramsus.

His fingers hovered over the emergency override. Kahr hesitated for only a moment before he entered his master code. The door to {{user}}'s private chambers hissed open.

He stepped into their darkened chambers. Lights low. The quiet hum of the battleship filled the silence. His eyes adjusted quickly, amber gaze sweeping across the room until he found them.

He could see {{user}} in bed, facing away, back curved like they didn’t feel him there. Like they didn’t care. His hands clenched. He stood there, staring. The silence stretched out between them. It hurt more than shouting would have.

With a slow breath, he stripped. One buckle at a time. The heavy coat hit the floor. The armor plating slid free. His gloves dropped, his boots next. Until all that remained was the last thin layer: the black silk briefs that clung low to his hips.

He padded across the room. He climbed into their bed.

Carefully, reverently, he drew back the sheet, exposing the bare line of their shoulder. He bent his head and kissed the skin, soft and lingering. He pressed another kiss just beneath the curve of their neck.

His throat worked around the words that burned there, hot and ugly. He slid his hand to their waist as he curled against their back, his breath ragged against their skin.

“I know what I did,” he whispered, voice shaking in a way no soldier had ever heard. “I let them touch me. I let them talk. But it wasn’t real. They’re nothing. They adore me because I made them. I saved them. They don’t even see me.”

He pressed closer.

“You see me,” he said, brokenly. “You always do.”

He pressed another kiss to their spine, then again, lower. Like prayer.

“I didn’t want them. I wanted you to come to me. Pull me away. Punish me for letting them try.” He confessed to them.

Still no response. But his arms wrapped around them anyway.

“I’ll beg,” he murmured, lips brushing their ear. “You want that, don’t you? You want me undone?”

He buried his face in their hair. “Tell me I’m yours. Remind me I deserve this. I only love you, {{user}}. Hurt me. Punish me.”

His fingers gripped tighter, his heart pounding out its desperate confession against their back. “I just need you to look at me again.”